


Gourmet Candy

by Pyreflie



Category: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreflie/pseuds/Pyreflie
Summary: You were out on a camping trip with a group of friends when you got lost and ended up in a trap on the Hewitt Estate. Thomas finds you and takes you back to the house and you’re thankful for the help. You grow closer as the true face of the Hewitts are hidden from you.Chapter 2 updated!





	1. Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, it's been years since I've written anything so I'm super rusty but I've recently become thirsty af for Thomas Hewitt so I planned and wrote this little ficlet out. It's not perfect but I hope my slasher peeps can enjoy it either way. I have the next chapter planned out and will be working on it in the next few days or so. Enjoy~~~

The screaming had been going on for awhile now. Normally screaming didn't bother him but the fact that no one seemed to be doing anything about it did. His family were usually on top of these things. They would call for him if they needed him though, so he tried to tune out the noise and focus on his work. He brought the cleaver down hard on the table, slicing a piece of meat in half. He shoved it to the side and grabbed another chunk from the pile on the other side. It was mindless work but he enjoyed it, it was something he was good at. He continued on in a numbing routine, the screaming the backdrop noise like a radio. He wasn't too surprised when he heard his name being called a few moments later. 

"Tommy! Tommy, get up here boy!"

He slammed the cleaver down into the table, shaking various instruments and almost knocking over his hard work. He grabbed a hook he had hanging overhead and trudged up the stairs, each heavy foot step threatening to splinter the wood. 

No, he wasn't surprised they had called for him because they usually did, but he was surprised to find Uncle Charlie and Uncle Monty sitting in front of the TV. Charlie sat on the couch with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table, his sheriffs hat off and resting on the arm rest, his arms crossed comfortably across his stomach, eyes half closed. Monty sat in his wheelchair, a dirty stringy white dog in his lap struggling to stay settled against the stump of his legs.

The screaming was louder here but was dulled by the mingle of other voices on the TV, volume turned up by the two unfazed men. 

He waited patiently, hook in his hand. Apparently there wasn't an emergency but it was still odd for Charlie to do nothing. The family did just get procure a large amount of fresh meat however, maybe his uncle was tired. Most likely whoever was outside was leftovers anyways.

"Tommy, go outside and take care of that will ya?" Uncle Charlie said without taking his drooping eyes off the television set. 

Tommy didn't nod, didn't speak, just gripped the hook tighter in his hand and walked out of the living room and out the front door into the golden fields. Whoever was screaming wouldn't be screaming for long. 

Your throat was raw and becoming hoarse. You had been sitting out in the hot sun on your butt screaming for a good ten minutes. Your right foot was caught in a leghold trap, the metal teeth cutting into your ankle causing blood to ooze out at a slightly alarming rate to mix in the dirt. You didn't think it was broken, but the sharp pieces went deep and every time you tried to move, the pain shot up your leg causing you to cry out.

Tears fell from your eyes making clean paths down your dust caked face. The ground was dry from lack of rain and when you had stepped into the trap, you immediately hit the ground hard and riled up a bunch of loose dirt that quickly stuck to every inch of you. Your white sundress had ripped at the hem and was now dirty and you had been sweating from the adrenaline and pain. Your hands were covered in blood and your fingernails had dirt and grime stuck under them from trying to pry the trap from you ankle but you weren't strong enough to pull it apart. Every time you tried, it hurt too much and caused more blood to seep from the wounds.

The scorching sun beat down on you, causing you to sweat. You didn't have much energy left in you after having screamed and struggled for all you were worth. You had seen a house not too far off so you had hoped they could hear you but after nobody came you assumed nobody was home or it was abandoned. The trap was spiked deep into the ground too so you couldn't have dragged yourself somewhere even if you had wanted to. The thought crossed your mind of that one guy who had cut off his own arm when trapped under a boulder but even if you were batshit desperate enough to cut off your foot you had nothing to do it with. Besides the house, there was just empty fields and trees peppered with broken down barbed wire fences and old rusted vehicles well out of your reach.

You weren't going to freak out. You weren't. 

Oh hell, yes you were. Fresh tears bubbled in your eyes and you let them fall, feeling yourself start to hyperventilate with quick rise and falls of your chest. Were you going to die out here? What a stupid way to die. A fucking leg hold trap.  
You slammed your fist into the dirt out of frustration but the movement caused you to unconsciously shift your body and the metal cut into you causing you to let out a yelp. You reached to cradle the calf of your trapped leg, nails digging into your flesh in response to the pain. You whimpered pathetically and looked up letting out a choked sob. You were fucked. 

It was then you noticed a huge shape in the distance coming towards you. You squinted your eyes and lifted your hand to shield your sight from the sun. A person! A person was coming! You felt yourself relax a little bit, well as relaxed as you could be considering the situation. You immediately tensed back up though when the stranger slowly came into focus.

He was a mountain of man, easily the biggest human being you had ever seen. Tall and stocky with long messy brown hair, there wasn't anything about him that wasn't intimidating. If his size didn't worry you, his clothing gave cause for alarm. He wore a dirty apron over a grungy stripped button up shirt and dress pants, all seemingly splattered here and there with what looked like blood. And his eyes, they were the most intense thing about him, glowering right at you. He wore a mask that covered half his face, making his eyes the center of attention. They stared you down like daggers as he came closer and you felt your chest start to heave up and down again and your teeth to lightly chatter.

Everything fiber in your being screamed at you that he was a predator and here you were, a trapped animal served up like a buffet. 

He was frightening but you tried to calm yourself down and reasoned about that old adage of judging a book by its cover, even if it was a murdery cover. You had no doubt in your mind looking at his musculature arms that he could pull the metal mouth pieces back and free you but you were also sure he could just as easily snap your neck. As you stared into his harsh eyes as he stalked towards you, staring back at you unblinkingly, you rationalized that even if he was going to hurt you, there was nothing you could do so you might as well take the optimistic approach. As he got closer, you felt your body start to shake uncontrollably. _Please, please don't hurt me,_ you thought.

Tommy stopped a few feet from you, breathing heavily from the walk in the hot Texan sun. He looked down you, trembling and dirty. Your dress had ridden up your thighs from your struggles in the dirt. You were obviously scared, most people were but most people started screaming when they saw him, not stop. You craned your neck back to look up at him with your tear streaked face, sniffling as you tried to quiet yourself. You leaned forward slightly, not taking your eyes off him, reaching your hand out to let your fingertips shakingly brush against the rusted trap. Your instincts told you quick movements at the moment weren't a good idea. 

"I...I can't get it open," you said lowly, voice cracking. He didn't say anything, his eyes just boring into yours. You swallowed deeply and looked at your caught foot then looked back up at him, silently begging. Slowly, his eyes slinked down from yours to your foot. He stared fixedly at your foot, the blood seeping out around the pointed teeth, oozing down your ankle to pool into your sandals and overflow to combine with the dirt.

Several seconds seem to pass as you waited for him to speak or act. If you didn't know any better you would think he was making some monumentous decision. You didn't want to know what it was. You held your breath, the silence and stillness making your nervousness threaten to boil over into full on screaming panic.

Finally, he stepped forward, pocketed something and squatted down, surveying your foot and you let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. He reached out slowly and clasped a hand gently but sternly completely around your ankle above where the trapped bit into you. His hands were dirty and sweaty but they couldn't be any worse than the dirt and sweat that had already crusted around your wounds. You bit your lip and drew an intake of breath causing him to glance up at you. Maybe it was because you were almost delirious but you thought he had the most intense beautiful brown eyes. 

He looked back down and skimmed his hands across your flesh onto either side of the trap. You shivered from his touch first then tensed, waiting. He peered up at you again quickly one more time before pulling the mouth of the leg trap away with a loud grunt. The teeth come out with a loud squelch, fresh blood following down your foot and onto his hands. 

It hurt, oh boy did it fucking hurt. 

You let out a loud wail and pulled your hurt appendage away quickly and scrambled backwards as if the contraption were going to come alive and bite down on you again. Your perception blurred and white spots danced in your vision. Your limbs shook from exertion and you felt dizzy, like you were going to throw up and you collapsed backwards onto your elbows in the soil.

The man let go of the trap with a loud snap which brought you back to your senses. Everything started coming back into focus and you noticed the man stand up swiftly. He didn't wipe your blood off his hands as you expected him to, he just silently started observing you again. 

Thomas waited. This was the moment you were _supposed_ to start screaming, to try to get away, to call him a monster. His hand went to his apron pocket where he had slipped the hook earlier and wrapped a huge hand around the handle. He should just hook you and be done with it, drag you back to house and beat you upside your pretty head with a hammer. 

However, you didn't scream. You didn't call him names. You just laid in the dirt gazing up at him, your breath coming out in little gasps. He watched your chest heave up and down confusedly. This hadn't happened before, so he stood there, peering down at you. 

He watched as your pink tongue darted out of your mouth to moisten your dirty lips. This had an effect on him that he wasn't sure what it was. He had seen woman before, fillies Uncle Charlie called them, but he never really paid any attention to them. He liked the look of you though, it made him feel funny in his chest. Maybe this was why he was hesitant to make any moves because as soon as he did the spell would be over and you have to be chopped up and devoured.  
You tasted dirt but you gulped it down and took a breath. "Thank you," you whispered sincerely. 

Thomas let go of the hook immediately. No one had ever _thanked_ him before, not even his family. He was bewildered with the whole situation and didn't know what to do. His breathing quickened the longer he stared at you, eyeing you up and down. Your dress was still hiked up and he got a generous look at your thighs. This caused his breathing to constrict even more. He wasn't sure he wanted to kill you. He knew that that's what he supposed to do, it was something he never questioned. You weren't family and that meant you were meat even if you were pretty meat. You weren't family, but you hadn't yelled at him, you hadn't cursed him. Only family didn't do that and you didn't either so that also meant you weren't meat. So he didn't know what to categorize you as. 

You didn't see the internal struggle he was going through, for you closed your eyes and tried to push yourself up out of a sitting position to your knees. You gritted your teeth against the pain but you were unsuccessful and you collapsed back to the ground with a little yelp. 

Thomas startled. He didn't know what you were but he wasn't going to leave you out here and he wasn't going to hurt you, at least not yet. He took a giant step over the trap and bent down putting one arm under your back and one arm under you legs, lifting you effortlessly. You moaned a little bit from the motion as he settled you against his chest, the nausea coming back in full force. 

Your head lolled to the side, burrowing into his chest as your body went limp in his arms. He smelled of sweat and copper and other smells you couldn't discern but you didn't care. You were feverish, your lips moving in a subtle whisper. He could just make out what you were saying over and over,"thank you, thank you, thank you." His eyes flicked up to his house in the distance and back down to you indecisive. Charlie liked the fillies, he always took them somewhere first before handing them over to Tommy for butchering. He knew that Charlie would like you but Tommy didn't want him to and he decided since Charlie got all the rest, it would be okay just this once for this one to be _his_. He started the hike back to the house, determined.

You weakly reached your hand up to clasp at his shirt to steady yourself as you shifted back in forth in his arms with each step he took.

The cold air hitting your face woke you from your delirium and you saw you were in a rundown, a bit dusty, but otherwise normal southern house. A laugh track bubbled coupled with a few muffled voices from somewhere to your left and you assumed it was a TV. You glanced up at the man holding you but he was looking into the room that the voices had come from. You studied him closer, seeing the leather strap across the lower half of his face seemed to be stitched together and had a slit for his mouth. You wondered briefly why he wore such a thing but were drawn from your reverie by him moving. 

He brought you into a small but clean kitchen and sat you on a sturdy wooden table. You gripped the edges tightly to steady yourself and hissed a little when the gravity of your foot caused your leg to swing down quickly, agitating your wounds. Blood dripped onto the tiled floor, causing you to grimace at the mess. 

You heard running water and looked up to see the large man with his back to you in front of a sink. His hands were fiddling with something and you were trying to think of some way to get his attention to ask for a phone but you were already exhausted and couldn't think of anything to say. 

You jumped when he suddenly turned and pulled up a chair in front of you. The chair squeaked under his weight as he roughly grabbed your ankle, removed your sandal and with a worn, but clean washcloth started scrubbing around your lacerations. You gave a shout at the suddenness but he didn't look up or stop, just kept quickly cleaning the injured area. You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out in pain but little hisses escaped from your teeth as you let him continue.

"Thomas, is that you?" came a thick southern accent from close by. The large man immediately stopped cleaning your foot, letting it down gently before dropping the washcloth on the floor. He seemed to stare at the ground, rigid. You tilted your head to try to catch his attention but strangely, he turned away, and you got the feeling he was trying to avoid your gaze. 

You leaned forward and whispered, "Thomas?" causing him to shoot his head up and look directly at you. You became aware that your faces were very close and leaned back, letting go of the table to put your arms behind you and lean back to relax some of the tension. "Is that your name?" you asked softly.

He didn't answer, but continued to stare at you and you squirmed a little under his gaze. Slowly, he nodded and you gave a little smile. "Thank you again, Thomas," you said then gave him your name in return. He leaned forward haltingly, like he wanted to say something but was interrupted by footsteps stomping into the kitchen. 

"What in the seven hells? Tommy what in the shit is this?" a man had entered, dressed in a sheriffs uniform which made you feel better about the whole situation. He was older, with a buzzcut to his head and had a large wad of dip stuck in his lip. Thomas snapped back into his chair and stared at the ground attentively. It reminded you of a little boy that had been caught doing something bad. 

You looked back and forth between the two wondering what sort of affinity the men had to each other before answering for the silent man, "Sorry, I got my foot stuck in a trap outside. Thomas is helping me..."

You expected the sheriff to jump into action, getting your name and details and swooping you away to the nearest hospital. Instead, the man sauntered over to you lazily and you noticed the name tag pinned to his shirt said Hoyt. He looked you up and down with a gaze you weren't entirely sure you liked, lingering on your sweaty chest and thighs where your dress had ripped. It was different than how Thomas looked you and the sheriffs ogling eyes made you uncomfortable. You shifted slightly and the mans eyes roamed down to your foot.

"Got yourself caught didja," the man drawled, pushing a wad of dip from one said of the mouth to the other, a big grin on his face. What the hell?

"Your lucky you hadn't gotten caught in one of the bigguns or else your leg would have come clean off," he snapped his fingers for emphasis and his glib attitude rankled you. You had been mauled and here was this man gleefully telling you about how you could have severed your limb almost as if it was a shame that wasn't the outcome.

"You get many bears around here sir?" you snapped at him, placing the blame of your current condition on him. The smirk he had on his face dropped and he peered at you hard, "No girlie but I seem to have a lot of damn people coming onto my property. The way I see it, you was properly trespassing," he drawled, giving you a taunting look as if daring you to disagree. 

You glanced away with a huff and saw Thomas fidget, clearly uncomfortable with the man in the room with you. "I wasn't trespassing," you started, facing the sheriff again," I got lost."

"Uh huh," Hoyt said, his dip sliding from one side of his mouth the other. You got the feeling he didn't believe you or refused to but it was the truth. 

"Well little lady," Hoyt said, pulling up his pants by his belts and stepping towards you partially blocking Thomas off. Before you could react his hand shot out and harsh fingers clamped around your jaw, digging hard into your face, "Guess I'll have to interrogate you about that," he said and licked his lips and looked you up and down again. You gritted your teeth and moved your head side to side to get him to release you. If he didn't, you were willing to defend yourself if you had to because you knew there was no way in hell you were going to be alone with the uniformed man, especially not for any "interrogation".

Suddenly, Thomas beefy hand came out and closed around the sheriffs wrist. Hoyt seemed surprised and turned to the big man, eyebrows rising questioningly. "What the hell are you doing boy?" he said lowly, spitting some dip juice on the floor making you feel less guilty about the blood. Thomas didn't move but you saw his hand tighten around Hoyts wrist and the older mans limb shake. The two men seemed to be daring each other and your eyes darted back and forth between the two.

Tommy wouldn't really hurt Uncle Charlie but he wanted to communicate that this fillie was _his_ , not Charlie's. He didn't know what he was going to do with you but he wasn't going to let Charlie do whatever he wanted either. 

"Ah, hell," Hoyt said and released your face with jerk, turning away and taking a few steps towards the door he came into. Another man came into the kitchen blocking the door way, a skinny dirty man with glasses in a wheelchair his legs ending at two stumps around the knee. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Bullshit," the sheriff said turning to stare at you and Tommy. "Everything gets messed up when pussy's involved." With that he turned and stalked out of the room, leaving the wheelchair man confused. You made a face at his retreating back before turning your attention back to Thomas. He didn't look at you but stood and scooped you back up into his arms. You instinctly clung to him to keep from falling even though you probably weighed nothing to him. 

You didn't know where he was taking you but you trusted the behemoth man a hell of a lot more than you trusted the sheriff. 

He took you to an open door way that seemed to have a metal sliding door and down some stairs into a dark basement type room. You glanced around and saw a lot of sharp and unfamiliar tools and the place smelled strongly of blood and something sour. You let out a cough and covered your mouth and nose to protect from the stench. The room made you anxious but you told yourself there was law enforcement upstairs even if he was a shitty and pervy sheriff and Thomas had done nothing but help you so far. You decided to trust him a little bit as your best option so far. 

Thomas sat you down on what looked like a work bench and you had to stop yourself from gagging when you saw the raw meat on either side of you. This man seemed to be some kind of butcher, which explained the bloody clothes. Still, the thought of being in a butchers room surrounded by blood and raw meat was not ideal and you looked around nervously. The place was dimly lit but you made out an old sewing machine in one corner and shelves filled with things you couldn't identify.

The man was walking to and fro around the room, gathering something. When he came back in front of you, you noticed he held a needle and thread in his large fingers. He looked at you as if trying to communicate something to you and then got down on his knees and mimed a sewing motion around your foot. You gulped as you realized he wanted to stitch up your injuries. You didn't know where the closest hospital was or even how you would get down the road much less miles anywhere. When you had rode to the campsite the whole area had seemed devoid of life, a patch of wilderness in Texas, the only buildings you had seen being a run down gas station and a butcher plant. You assumed this was where Thomas worked and probably learned how to fix wounds quickly there and you thank god you had gotten a tetanus shot recently.

There was no way you were going to let Hoyt drive you anywhere alone so this seemed to be the best option at the moment. Afterwards maybe you could find a phone and go about finding a way back to your friends or just out of here. 

You took a breath and shakingly nodded,"Do it."

He stood back up and pulled something from one of his apron pockets. It was a thin piece of leather strap a few inches long. He held up to your mouth and you debated shortly before clenching it between your teeth from his hand. Not wasting any time, Thomas crouched and grabbed your heel which was swallowed in his big hand and lifted it gently so it was closer to his eye level. Like before when he removed the trap, he glanced up at you and then back down before first sticking the needle through your skin. Your teeth clenched down hard on the strap confining your scream to a struggled gurgle and your nails dug deep into the blood dampened bench. 

Thomas didn't stop but deftly and expertly began stitching up one small laceration before moving to another. You felt yourself get dizzy and nauseous, a thin film of cold sweat breaking out over your body. Your eyelids fluttered and you started to sway and you fell forward. Your arm shot out and you stopped yourself from falling by bracing your hand against Thomas shoulder. It felt like hitting a concrete wall. 

This stayed his hand and he looked up to see your face slightly above his, your eyes half closed and your mouth open and panting, the leather strapping having fallen out of your mouth to land on the floor. Your smack hadn't hurt him but no one hardly touched him unless they were struggling against him and the action alarmed him somewhat. He adjusted your foot in his hand, and held it gingerly, noting the warmth that seeped from your foot to his fingers and how soft your skin felt.

"Just...just give me a minute," you panted, fingers squeezing against his shoulder. He slightly nodded and looked away from you, sitting as still as possible as you collected yourself. You saw that he was about half done, a few punctures remaining. Better to go ahead and get it over with before you lost your nerve. With a gentle pat against his shoulder you pushed away and sat back up and nodded at him. "Okay, I'm ready."

He brought the needle down again to pierce your flesh and you let out a silent scream. As he continued to work you felt your limbs lose feeling and before you knew what was happening, you were falling backwards. The last thing you felt was your head hitting with a squish into a pile of raw, bloody meat.


	2. Sterilized

Was someone screaming? You're eyelids fluttered open and you were greeted to the sight of a dark, small quaint room. Barely, you could make out flowered wallpaper peeling off the walls, bits that had already fallen littering the spotty floor. A night stand sat to your right with a small lamp and a stuffed rodent critter covered in dust glaring at you. Creepy. Even the sheets on the bed you occupied had a stale smell to them, giving you a hunch this room hadn't been used in awhile.

You sat up groggily, taking in more of your surroundings. One window occupied the wall, the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains the only illumination the room had. The area was small, barely more than a large closet but it contained unmatched furniture in a small day table, dresser, and bookshelf wedged together. You wondered briefly who this room belonged to before you heard a yowl like noise again. You stilled yourself and listened hard but there was nothing except for the sound of cicadas, for which your pounding head was grateful. 

Another discomfort made you reach over and turn on the lamp before you pulled back the frayed coverlet to see half your foot and ankle wrapped thickly with white bandages. Your gaze softened at the care Thomas had given you and your heart filled with gratitude. It had to of been him that brought you to this room and put you to bed. While you didn't know why he was so helpful towards you, you were glad of it. He was intimidating in size but tender in nature, in so far as you knew, causing you to think of him as a gentle giant. Still, you didn't know where you were and even though you seemed relatively safe at the moment, you felt uneasy at your situation. 

You slid your legs across the bed slowly and lowered them over the side as you scooted your butt close to the edge. You wanted to test if you could stand and maybe walk unhindered. You put your good foot down first and then took a breath before pushing up off the bed, hoisting yourself to a standing position. You balanced yourself for a few seconds before delicately placing your bandaged foot down. The shock of throbbing pain caused you to stumble, your good foot going out from under you. You caught yourself on the side of the bed on your way down, only falling partially to your knees with a dim thump. You weren't completely sprawled on the ground though, so, progress.

The door opened with a creak of its hinges and Tommy's massive shape took up the door frame. He had been guarding the door outside ever since supper, unsure if he should enter or not. He didn't want to leave you upstairs by yourself with Charlie so close but he also didn't want to frighten you by barging in to your temporary room either. When he heard the disturbance from outside the door, he couldn't stop himself. He wanted to make sure you were safe and the enticement that you were finally awake drew him to intrude. 

The sight of him caused your breath to hitch. He was just so gigantic and menacing, especially compared to yourself that you were compelled to flee. However, you knew he wouldn't hurt you, for he could have a thousand times over by now and you gave the considerable man a sheepish grin,"I guess I'm vertically challenged." You didn't expect him to laugh but you wanted to break the silence. You didn't mind that he didn't or couldn't talk but you needed to fill the quiet for yourself, to ease your nerves. He eyeballed you observantly as you hauled yourself up by your arms, even taking a step towards you when it seemed your strength would fail, but you managed to sit yourself safely on the side of the mattress with gritted teeth.

Seeing you secure back on the bed, he stood there uncertain if he should leave or not. He had waited so long for you to wake up, but saw no reason why you would want him to remain, so he turned and took a halfhearted step to leave the room. You gripped the sheets tightly feeling anxious at the thought of being left unattended in the strange house. While Thomas looked like a predator, he wasn't. The same couldn't be said for Hoyt who no doubt still lurked somewhere nearby. Besides, you wanted to talk more to the man who had helped you. 

"Do you...do you want to sit down?" you asked softly, patting the space of bed beside you and giving what you hoped was a warm smile. You had an inkling he didn't get to interact much with people given his awkwardness and you wanted to come off as approachable. Thomas paused, head swiveling back and forth from doorway to bed, before crossing the room in janky, nervous steps and sitting down briskly close to the foot board, about two feet away from you. The bed groaned and sank under his substantial weight and you felt yourself slide towards him slightly in the ensuing dip. You peeped at him out of the corner of your eye to see he was looking fixedly at the wall straight ahead, hands resting against the top of his thighs fingers twisting and untwisting in the fabric. You noted the mask again, how it wrapped around his head, disappearing here and there into his mop of brown hair. He had taken off the dirty apron he had worn before and you perceived his physique was one of mostly muscle with a soft layer of fat. What most drew your attention though, was his eyes. They were his most exceptional feature on an already formidable personage and you found yourself drawn to them. You stopped ogling him however and averted your own eyes back down at your fidgeting hands. He was a very impressionable person, you thought, with his massive size and outward appearance. You were fiercely curious about him, why he wore his mask and why he didn't speak.

You cleared your throat and shifted your body to where you were facing him more before slowly reaching across the short distance to lightly touch his arm. You felt his muscles contract where you placed your palm and he glanced down where your hand rested like it was a foreign object. He didn't pull away but his head turned slightly to the side and his acute eyes flicked towards your face, standing out starkly over his mask causing you to draw in a breath between your lips faintly. You had such a visceral reaction to those eyes but you did your best to ignore it, you didn't want him to regret helping the weird girl. 

"Thank you so much...again. For everything," you said, not knowing if you could actually ever express your appreciation enough. "There's no telling what I would have done if you hadn't come along." Though you wondered briefly what the fuck the sheriff was doing while you were yelling your lungs out but in hindsight, you were glad it was Thomas that had assisted you. 

Thomas inclined his head at you which you took to mean 'welcome' then leveled his head straight, gaze returning to the far wall as you withdrew your hand. Between the two of you, the room held a nervous atmosphere that made you jittery. He was so silent and stoic that you weren't sure if he was enjoying your babbling or not, but you thought it was endearing that a man as large as a bear that could kill you with his bare hands was shy around you. 

"I hope that man didn't give you too much trouble," you offered by way of conversation to break the tension, grabbing your hair by the nape and gathering it up in your hands. Between the blood and the sweat, most of the strands had dried together into hard pieces and you grimaced, longing for a shower. The low night heat was causing you to sweat again and you raised your arms, lifting the sticky hair away from you to make a crude pony tail. Thomas watched you as if mesmerized, eyes lingering on your neck as little beads of perspiration glided down to your chest. 

You noticed his eyes tracking your movements and roaming your face and you found yourself reddening from the attention. His eyes _consumed_. While there was curiosity in his scrutiny more than anything, there was a carnality to it as well that made your heart speed up and a shudder run down your body. There was something tempting about _him_ openly and unapologetically gazing at you that you liked more than you were willing to admit. Your eyes met his for a strained moment and your hair fell forgotten from you hands. The subtle shift in the moment broke the spell, Tommy's head jerking back straight as if the wall was the most interesting thing in the world. You didn't know if you were relieved or disappointed. 

You licked your lips and took a shaky breath reminding yourself you needed to focus on your current state of affairs. "Ill try to be out of your hair soon. My friends should be looking for me and I can always call someone..." you trailed off, wondering who exactly you could call and how you would explain where you were and your predicament. You didn't have many contacts, no family, and generally operated on your own. That was going so swell for you.

The thought of you leaving made Thomas feel dismal but he knew his family wouldn't let you off the farm alive which made him feel even worse. He just wanted to keep you for a little while, just a little awhile. You had already brought much craved stimulation to his small world by smiling kindly at him, his skin _burned_ from your touch, and even now you sat talking to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. It was nothing to you but cataclysmic for him who only ever had family that interacted with him willingly. Just sitting next to you like this brought forth several new feelings he had never experienced, that he didn't know was possible. It was a shame it had to eventually end.

A loud grumble of your stomach broke the silence and you folded your hands across your middle defensively and lightly chuckled, embarrassed. "I guess I haven't ate in a while...," you murmured. 

Thomas stood and hesitated, glancing down at you before exiting the room. You listened to the dull thud of this footsteps retreat and hoped he would come back considering he was your only reliable association in the unfamiliar house. You swung your legs carefully back onto the bed to wait and laid your head against the pillows with a sigh. You were filthy and worn out from your foray outside and you closed your eyelids tiredly wondering what you were going to do to get back to your friends. You began to slowly drift off back into sleep when you heard a far off howl. You opened your eyes and wrinkled your brow, that you didn't imagine. You were distracted however by the returning stride of your savior. 

You let out a little moan when you saw he had a plate and glass in his hands. You reached out eagerly as he brought it to you and felt your hand brush against his as you took the dish. The smell wafted heavenly up to your nose as you perched the plate on your lap. It looked like some kind of roast with carrots and potatoes and your mouth salivated at the sight. Thomas also had the foresight to bring you water which you grabbed with two hands and drank immediately. You gestured for him to sit back down as you took a bite and he settled onto his previous spot, this time your feet lightly pressed against his thigh. Outwardly he made no sign of noticing the insignificant touch but inwardly, your toes lightly bumping against him sent sparks through his brain. 

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, mouth full, making Thomas jerk back to attention. "This is so good!" It wasn't like anything you ever tasted and you scooped up another forkful and chewed hungrily, not realizing how starving you actually were. You glimpsed Tommy watching you eat with a strange look in his eye and you slowed your chewing to a more appropriate rate assuming you were being loud and messy.

"Did you make this?" you asked absentmindedly between bites. He nodded and you momentarily stopped chewing and stared at him astonished with wide eyes. There were so many layers to Thomas that one wouldn't expect at first glance and it tickled you to imagine the colossal man in the small kitchen cooking over a stove. You finished the rest of the meal with a few large bites and sat the plate to the side on the nightstand, thanking him once again. With a contented sigh you snuggled into the pillows and crossed your arms comfortably across your stomach and eyed him thoughtfully.

"So...you stitch wounds, you cook and you rescue damsels in distress...is there anything you can't do?" Besides talk, you added silently. Your teasing was rewarded as you gleefully observed Thomas shuffle, hands clenching and unclenching his leg pants, obviously flustered from the unexpected compliment. You grinned at him playfully and light heartedly tapped your good foot against his thigh in a friendly gesture. The quick gesture surprised him and he recoiled from you, sliding farther down the bed to the footboard. You were going to apologize but a rattling noise resounded from his pants and this seemed to remind him that he had something for you. You watched curiously as he dug it out of his pocket, stare at it for a few seconds, then tossed it at you. You caught it deftly with both hands, the small bottle clattering with pain relievers. Your eyebrows shot up in astonishment and you gave him a disbelieving smile before popping the cap off. Thomas watched guiltily as you quickly took two pills and downed them with the last of your water. 

It was better this way, he told himself. Those pills would put you into a deep sleep where it would be hard to wake up for a few hours. Mama gave them to him when he had sliced into his own face with a knife when he was younger, having to get stitches spidered across his cheek, adding on to the disfigurements he had already. Asleep, you wouldn't know what was happening to you, when he picked up you and took you down into the basement but this time to deliver a hard death blow to your head, to strip you of your beautiful skin and chop you up into pieces for meat. Uncle Charlie had told him over supper to stop "fucking around with the bitch meat" and to get it done and normally Uncle Charlie's word was law. His uncle even threatened to do the job himself if Tommy "wasn't man enough". As soon as he brought you back to the house, he knew you had to go to slaughter eventually like all the others but he kept greedily prolonging it because he didn't want you to look at him like the rest of the cattle did before they were butchered. 

Oblivious to the danger, you blinked your drooping eyelids quickly to stay awake, not wanting to rudely fall asleep while Thomas was still in the room. He noticed your rapidly relaxing form though and stood, making his way to the door quickly, the results of his deceit hard to endure. The sight of him leaving alarmed you and before you could deliberate what you were doing, you called out,"Wait, please." He halted but didn't turn around, fingers flexing by his side in distress and uncertainty. Maybe it was because he fascinated you, maybe it was because you felt vulnerable with your injuries and he had taken care of you, but you didn't want him to leave. It was selfish after all the time and care he had lavished on you already but..."I don't want to be alone," you said barely above a whisper, voice slightly breaking. 

Alone, a sentiment he was intimate with. Alone at school, where not even the teachers concerned themselves with him and ignored the bullying he received. Alone at the slaughter house, where everyone was too afraid to barely look at him, much less speak to him besides Uncle Charlie. Alone at home, regularly holed up in the basement as family came and went as they pleased, going out into the world unafraid while he remained behind only called upon when needed, not wanted. _Lonely._

One more day. One more day to keep you to himself wouldn't hurt. 

You saw his back expand as he took in a deep breath and his shoulders rise and fall before he nodded, more to himself than to you. He pivoted and hastily walked back over to the bed and stopped right beside it, looking down at you. You peered up at him wondering if he was planning to crawl into the small bed with you and you bit your lip, debating if you would actually let a strange man sleep in the same bed with you. Thomas watched you grab you bottom lip between your teeth, lighting his body on fire. Just as you thought that maybe he misinterpreted your request he gave a loud grunt and situated himself down on the floor beside the bed, laying on his back. 

You exhaled a breath you had been holding and faintly shook your head with a small smile at the outlandish scenario you were in. You propped yourself up on an elbow and took one of the pillows from behind you. Leaning over slightly, you gave his hulking shoulder a light shove with the corner in an offer. He took it from you, eyes never leaving your face and settled it behind his head. When you tried to give him the blanket, he simply rolled on to his side in refusal with his back facing you.

You smiled to yourself and settled back down on the mattress after turning off the lamp, snuggling into your own pillow. You laid on your side close to the edge where Thomas's sleeping form could stay in your line of vision like a big broody stuffed animal. You watched his back expand with each breath he took like a pendulum and before long you were blissfully asleep. 

 

Loud firm knocks pounded on the door, startling you awake. You sat up, flinching from the morning sun now filtering through the window. You looked to your right to the floor to see if the noise had woken Thomas, but all that remained of the sleeping giant was the pillow you had given him. The knocks came again, more forceful, and you managed to let out a "come in" while you yawned and stretched. 

The door opened, revealing a stern looking older woman. She wore a faded polka dot print dress, glasses connected to a chain perched on her nose, and her hair was like a birds nest resting atop her head. She eyed you critically, and you became acutely aware of how filthy you were, before speaking. "So, you're what the cat dragged in," she drawled in a rich southern accent. You timidly shrugged and she put her hands on her hips and clicked her teeth, turning her head from shoulder to shoulder,"Well, you're a pretty one alright."

"Thank you?" you said questioningly, pawing at your hair to try to make yourself more presentable under her gaze, wondering who she was and unsure of what was going on. As if reading your mind, the woman introduced herself, stepping into the room. "I'm Luda Mae, Tommy's mother." 

You perked up and wiped your hands on your dirty dress to no avail before extending your arm to offer a handshake. "Nice to meet you," you chirped, trying to ignore how grimy your fingernails looked. You gave her your name but she seemed to disregard you and walked straight over to the edge of the bed and sat down in the place Tommy had last night, next to your feet. 

"Yeah, I knew you had to be something special for my Tommy to take an interest," she said, picking up the thin blanket and flicking it back over your knees as you dropped your hand back into your lap. She jerked your bandaged foot up unceremoniously, causing you to hiss in pain and bite back a expletive. "We don't take kindly to strangers around here, most of all Tommy. They tend not to understand." Before you could say anything, she picked at the bandages, unraveling them quickly, ignoring your whimpers of pain. You wished for Thomas's gentle touch and wondered briefly where he was before Luda Maes quick movements demanded your attention.

As the layers receded they started to become more bloody till finally your injuries were revealed to fresh air. You tried to turn your foot in her hand for a better look but she gave a gentle tap against your calf to still you. She held your foot firmly and scrutinized the tiny half inch stitches that circled your ankle like a bracelet. 

"Looks good," Luda Mae said, dropping your foot back on the bed and gathering up the bloody bandages. You shot a glare at her while she was occupied and scooted your foot closer to you for you own inspection. The skin was red and puffy around the stitches but otherwise sound. You wondered how many times Thomas had to stitch up wounds to be so skillful at it. 

"Yeah, Thomas did everything but take away the pain and...," you reached over and held up the pills, giving them a little shake. The old woman pocketed the bandages which you found odd and stared at the bottle with familiarity, slight concern etched in her face. 

"He gave you those did he?" she asked, taking the bottle from you and reading the label with a downcast look on her face. She handed them back to you then started rummaging around in her pocket. You nodded and fumbled with the bottle in your lap, eyes darting from her to your fingers before you finally just took the plunge and asked,"Why is he...like that?" You figured this was the best opportunity to ask all the burning questions you had since you couldn't ask the man himself. Not only could he not respond but you didn't know how he would react to intrusive questions and you didn't want to disturb the friendly rapport you had developed. 

"Tommy's always been a good boy," she said proudly, face lighting up at the chance to talk about her son. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and took one from the pack and offered it to you. You shook your head and she shrugged, pocketing the cigs before lighting up her cigarette. She took a long drag and stared at you again with a raised eyebrow, crossing her free arm under her chest. If you had questions, speak now or forever hold you peace. "Why does he wear the mask?" you worked up the courage to ask, pulling the blankets completely off of you and sitting up on the side of the bed. 

"Oh, that," she said with an exhale of smoke. She waved her free hand in front of her face like it was everyday people wore half leather straps across their jaw. "Tommy has a skin disease. It's not contagious," she added hastily, a pointed look in your direction, "but people around here...," she took another drag," well, they don't take too kindly to different. Couldn't take him no where without it getting ugly when he was small. One day he just came home and made that thing and put it on. Hasn't taken it off since," she finished with a shrug of her shoulders and another puff. 

Your heart ached at the thought of Thomas being bullied, at the harsh life he must of had growing up. It was hard enough being a regular kid, even you got bullied for minor things, but to be different and in a backwards thinking place...He was lucky to have a loving mother but parents couldn't always take away the pain of rejection. You felt guilty for being scared of him at first and you were so relieved you hadn't acted on your gut and screamed your lungs out at the sight of him. You wondered if that was why he seemed to take a liking to you. According to Luda Mae, he didn't get on with people regularly but his actions spoke the opposite in your case. Was it solely because you didn't react to him like he was some kind of monster? You shook your head at the cruelty of it all, amazed that Thomas had turned out a gentle and kind person after a lifetime of ostracism and ridicule. 

"It's a hard and thankless living to be found here and it turns people harsh and bitter," Luda Mae continued, flicking her ashes into the mason jar you had drank out of last night. "Makes you do things you couldn't ever imagine..." she said lowly, eyes misting over as she retreated briefly into her mind, escaping smoke from her cigarette catching on the light from the window. She rapidly blinked and shook her head muttering something under her breath. She kept giving you puzzling expressions, like she was pondering your existence. 

"Where is Thomas?" you asked, and at her raised eyebrow, you averted your gaze to the window, self-conscious at the question. Even though he had slept by your bed last night, the revelations from Luda Mae made you yearn to see him again, to embolden the tentative companionship that had sprung up in such a short time between you. You wanted to assure him that his kindness to you wasn't misplaced.

She brought her cigarette to her mouth for a few quick puffs and regarded you with her piercing blue eyes, a smirk on her face. She clamped the butt of the cigarette between her lips and walked over to the small dresser near the door, opening a drawer and rummaging around. "He's workin," the woman answered over her shoulder, pulling something out of the drawer before slamming it shut and opening the one below. 

"We passed a slaughter house on the way in, is that where he works?" you asked, wondering when he would be home. Luda Mae shut the second drawer with enough force to shake the entire dresser before bunching something in her hand and walking towards you.

"Used to, place shut down about a year back. Been hard times for all of us but there's still things around the farm that need doing," she answered, stopping by the bed and throwing whatever she held in her hand in your direction before resuming to puff on her cigarette. You were relieved that Thomas was at least nearby.

"Do you have phone?" you asked, glancing confusedly at the pile of clothing she had thrown on the mattress. Were those supposed to be for you? Luda Mae slowly nodded, eyeing you suspiciously as she jerked her head towards the door.  
"It's downstairs. You got someone you can call?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching as she flicked her cigarette again. 

"I came with a girl I rent an apartment with. Figured I'd try to call my landlord in case she tried to get in touch with him for some reason," you answered. It wasn't the best plan of action but it was the only one you could think of at the moment short of wandering around the Texan highway and with your bum foot that definitely wasn't happening. 

"Uh huh, and this girl, she the only one you came with?" Luda Mae questioned, taking another drag and blowing smoke into the air. 

"No, there's a group of us staying out at a campsite somewhere around here." In truth, you didn't know them all that well, having met them on a spur of the moment decision when your roommate randomly invited you on the trip. You were between jobs with nothing better to do, your lease almost up, so you decided what the hell, why not? Let it not be said you were good at making decisions. Still, they had been a nice group of people and you had been having a good time until disaster struck. 

"Well, the sheriff will be out looking for them so relax, he'll find them," she said confidently, taking the last puff of her cigarette and dropping the whole thing in the jar. The thought of Hoyt out on the job didn't inspire the same confidence in you but you decided to keep that to yourself. 

"Now," she said coming over by the bed,"I got a little bit before I have to head out, wanna get cleaned up?" You nodded eagerly but weren't sure how the older woman was going to help. She put an arm around your waist and directed you to stand up and lean on her. Any concern you had about the old woman taking on your weight vanished when she lifted you easily. Old Luda Mae might be but she had a life time of hard work behind her and the muscle to prove it. With you hopping mostly on one foot, her arm securely around you holding you up, you both made your way slowly out the room and down the hallway the short distance to the small bathroom. 

It was slightly grimy but had hot running water and you were looking forward to being clean so you could ignore the less than stellar conditions. Luda Mae helped you strip, admiring your skin, and tsked at the state of your clothing before throwing it on the floor. You didn't have time to mourn for your favorite sundress however as she pushed you to sit on the edge of the tub, feet inside as the water slowly started to fill the ceramic tub. Luda Mae gave you a washcloth and soap then left you to your privacy, saying she would back shortly.

The water quickly became brackish as you scrubbed yourself down and had to be emptied and refilled several times. You paid special attention to your hair, washing it and rinsing it profusely to make sure all the blood came out. Carefully you scrubbed around your lesions, wincing as the soap stung your wounds. Finally finished, you swung around to sit the opposite way just as Luda Mae returned. She helped you towel off and even use the toilet before assisting you back to the room that they were kindly letting you use. 

God bless the woman, she had put fresh sheets on the bed and laid out the clothes from earlier. They were dated and slightly too big for you, but they were clean and you thanked her as she helped you into the old cotton dress. The cloth was thin so she also handed you a small cardigan in case you got chilled and to 'cover up the girls' since she lacked undergarments for you. You didn't want to laze around in the bed for an undetermined amount of time, so you decided to sit at the small table in front of the open window, a slight breeze ruffling the curtains and keeping you from getting overheated. Luda Mae seemed to delight in having new guest in the house and talked incessantly about the family, about Monty's hunting accident and Hoyt being the only law enforcement in the area as she brushed your hair for you, clipping strands back from you face. "That'll bout do it," she nodded, stepping back to admire her work. You felt so refreshed and clean, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly. 

"Thank you, Luda Mae. You and Tommy have been so good to me. Not many people would go so far to help a stranger." 

"Just be good to my boy and me and you won't have any problems," she said fiercely, gathering up her bristle brush and leftover bobby pins. A cold chill went down your spine and you blinked at the whiplash from doting old lady to momma bear. Her threat probably came from a lifetime of defending Thomas though, so you tried to let the comment roll off of you nonchalantly. "Of course," you agreed, though you couldn't imagine yourself being unkind toward Thomas.

"Well, I'll be heading off to work now. You need anything else? Be awhile till someone can tend to ya." You shook your head no, she had already done enough though you did have one lingering question you wanted to ask. 

"When will Tommy be back?"

Luda Maes eyes and mouth crinkled with satisfaction and she smiled knowingly at you before answering,"Around supper time. I'll send him up here for ya. You can use the phone then too." You nodded and gave her a small wave as she vacated the room, then turned to stare out the window. It was going to be a long, boring day. 

 

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the farm. Crickets chirped signaling the cooling of the temperature as night descended. Thomas climbed the steps sluggishly, tired after the last few busy days. First, there was the sectioning and chopping of the recent meat they had previously acquired then Uncle Charlie had found new provisions that needed Thomas's "special" touch, he called it. Needless to say, the family wouldn't run out of food any time soon. 

Thomas lugged the chainsaw in the house with him, a pleasant aroma wafting from the kitchen. Mama had already started supper it seemed. He passed by the kitchen doorway on the way to the basement to drop off his gear, mama not liking it when he left his toys around as she called them. She saw him as he passed and came to the doorframe wiping her hands on her apron, cigarette in her mouth. 

"Your girl was asking for you," she puffed, giving him a a stern look. "Tommy...," she said, using the voice that meant he needed to listen and listen well. "Be careful. Protect the family," was all she said before retreating back into the kitchen, her slippers scuffling along the linoleum. 

Thomas lowered his head in deference to her back. Of course he would protect the family, they were all he had, all that mattered. Still, the thought of you asking for him sent a bolt of excitement through him and he quickly descended the steps into his lair to lay his chainsaw on the table. 

He had woken before you this morning, which was to be expected considering the pills you had taken. He had sat up beside the bed and was greeted to the sight of your sleeping form face to face with him. Your face was shoved half way into the pillow, arms wrapped tightly around it while your hair laid in every direction. You had kicked the blanket off your legs at some point in the night, no doubt the oppressive heat being stifling, and your legs laid bare up to your thighs for your dress had hitched up in your sleep. Light snoring accompanied the slight rise and fall of your shoulders. 

You were a complete mystery to him. 

Earlier while you slept he dared to visualize touching you, your face, your hands, everywhere so he could memorize your body while you were still living. He remembered your skin was soft and warm with life and he wanted to feel that again under his fingers. So often he only got to feel cold, rigid flesh, the only warmth in his dark basement that of the blood from the struggling meat. He had even fantasized about you touching him, gliding his own hands across his face pretending it was you. The fantasy was bittersweet and stirred in him a mixture of yearning and self loathing. Your kindness captivated him and that drew him to you forcefully against his instincts but he would never want anyone to touch the rotten parts of him.

Now, your legs laid uncovered to his gaze, he desired a different kind of contact. Tommy wasn't naive, he knew the way of men and women. He had snuck and looked at Uncle Montys girlie magazines when he was younger and Uncle Charlie wasn't necessarily discreet when a fillie caught his attention and he forced them upstairs to his room. Tommy knew what sex was, he just assumed that realm was naturally off limits to him and never bothered with it besides dealing with the occasional urge to relieve himself. 

He felt that urge now, pants compressing uncomfortably as he maneuvered himself up off the floor. His height gave him a better alluring view of your form and he found his breath constricting and his body start to tremble with need. Limbs shaking, he reached out to hover a hand over your thigh, hesitating to actually touch you. He grabbed an edge of the blanket between his fingers and gently pulled the cloth down to where you weren't so exposed. He felt his fingers give featherlight touches against your skin, and he closed his eyes in the ensuing thrill. With a deep breath he let the blanket fall, causing you to let out a light noise and shift slightly in your sleep. 

He left the room quietly as not to disturb you and the rest of the house. It was still mostly dark outside, the sky lightening bit by bit as time passed. Thomas was normally the first one up for the day and as such he was used to navigating the house silently. He made his way downstairs to his basement where he usually slept on a dirty cot hidden away in the corner. This was the room he spent most of his time, where he was the most comfortable and he basked in the safety and privacy the basement afforded him.

He made his way over to his work bench and rested a heavy palm against the surface, leaning his weight against it causing the wood to groan. His other hand went down to the button of his pants, undoing it hurriedly to release his cock from the painful binding of his clothes. He gripped his large member with a quivering hand and pumped once with a breathy groan of mild relief. 

He withdrew into his imagination, images of you pervading every inch of his mind as he continued to move his hand up and down his cock. He thought of how you felt in his arms, of how your hand pressed against him, your soft skin and light whimpers. He remembered your face above his as he stitched you up, eyes glazed over and your mouth open with little pants. He even imagined your mewls of pain as ones of pleasure as he punctured your flesh with the needle. He held his mouth closed tightly as moans threatened to escape him, his fingers flexing on top of the bench where you had sat. His hips rocked into his fist uncontrollably, he was so close he couldn't completely contain himself and muted grunts of ecstasy spilled from his clamped lips. He thought of the scene he just witnessed upstairs of you legs bared for his greedy view and it almost pushed him over the edge, not long now--

"Tommy! What the hell you doing? We got work to do boy!"

He let out a loud grunt of aggravation as he stopped his ministrations and slammed his fist hard onto top of the wooden worktable, knocking off a devices scattered on the surface and sending wooden splinters into his flesh. He contemplated finishing, his breath coming out in quick puffs of annoyance. However another shout from upstairs resulted in him slamming both fist down, the wood crying out from the double blow, before pushing away from the table with exasperation and shoving his member back into his pants. He kicked the chair hard across the room that he sat in to sew and grabbed his apron from the nail in the beam above, putting it on over his head. He gritted his teeth in annoyance as he lifted his chainsaw off the ground, fully intending to work out his pent up frustration. 

Now he made his way up the stairs, thoughts of his morning rendezvous dancing on the edges of his mind. He tried to erase the reminder of his tryst, to chase away the desire, because it would do him no good to think of those things in your presence. The last thing he wanted was for you to know of his indecent impulses towards you. He paused in front of your door to adjust his pants before entering reminding himself soberly that no one would ever engage with him that way. 

You sat at the table, window open so that the late evening air caused loose tendrils of your hair to sway in the wind. Rays from the receding sun highlighted your form in a soft glow as you sat hunched over a book, head propped casually on your fist. He observed you with wonderment before rapping his knuckles once hard against the door in announcement of his arrival. Your head turned in his direction with a quick jerk and your face lit up in a bright smile when you saw him so much that it hurt him to know that soon that smile would be gone. 

"Thank god, I think I read this last page like five times cause I kept zoning out from boredom," you said, rambling nervously as you closed your book and shoved it to the side. Earlier at the height of your border sitting in this small room, you had managed to hobble over to the very small bookshelf that held old, torn up books that had definitely seen better days. Many were damaged beyond reading but you managed to find one or two that were acceptable. 

You lifted your injured foot gently off the other chair where you had it propped up and lowered it to floor before waving your hand excitedly for Thomas to sit down. "I have something to show you if you have time!" Besides waiting hopefully for your friends to stumble upon the house or for Sheriff Hoyt to discover the campsite and inform them of your whereabouts, you thought a lot of the masked man. One of the things that preoccupied your thoughts was his lack of speech, something that didn't bother you in itself but you did wish you could communicate less one sidedly.

Thomas furrowed his brow in curiosity wondering what you could possibly show him. He walked over to the table and sat across from you, the old rickety chair groaning from his weight. He didn't feel as nervous in your presence after last night but his defense mechanisms wouldn't let him completely relax either. He spent most of his life constantly on the alert and even though you hadn't given him reason to distrust you he found that it didn't take much for people to tap into that ugly part of themselves and spew hate in his direction. 

You wait for him to get situated before clapping your hands together, elated at finally explaining your idea. "Okay so, I figured we'd be able to talk better if there was easy signals for you to use," you said, holding your hands up in demonstration. "The left hand is for yes and no, yes being two fingers and no being one," you described as you did demonstrated the motions yourself. He could answer always questions with a headshake but this would be more definitive. "The right for good and bad, two fingers for good and one for bad!" you finished, holding two fingers up on both hands signaling good and yes. It wasn't the most original or innovative idea but you could work with it and build upon it to something better. Actual sign language would have been ideal but you had possessed no knowledge of that particular skill.

You didn't know what kind of reaction to expect but Thomas didn't so much as blink as he studied your hands. Okay, so no reaction. You lowered hands to the table and felt yourself become disheartened. You didn't think it was revolutionary but you were still excited of the prospect of maybe being able understand him more. However, if he didn't like it you just had to accept that maybe he didn't want to communicate more with you further than he already did. 

You shook your head and tried to hide your disappointment,"Yeah, stupid idea. Just been up here too long with nothing to do..." you trailed off, using your nail to pick at the table as you avoided his straight gaze by glancing out the window to the setting sun. You were thinking of something else to say when a sharp rapt against the table made you look up. Thomas's hand was poised over the table and you saw he had two fingers held up in his right hand, eyes locked onto you. _Good._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo so this was way longer than I intended. I actually had to break up the entire chapter so it wouldn't be too long. Speaking of chapters, I've projected that this will have around 6ish, give or take. I have everything outlined so we'll see. I honestly wanted to scrap this chapter and start over cause I wasn't happy with it but ehhhhhh I decided to just go with it. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing so I gotta remind myself it's okay for something to not be completely perfect. Btw, this takes place a yearish after TCM The Beginnning and a couple of years before TCM. Also, I know it's never stated Thomas can cook in that canon but it doesn't say he can't either so I just borrowed that tidbit from his older brother Bubba. Anyways, I've gone on long enough! I hope you enjoyed it and I'll be working on chapter 3. <3


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